The Color of Despair
by Phillippa of the Phoenix
Summary: Luna convinces Ginny to dye her hair black and life becomes more convaluted than usual. Costarring the Gryffindor Chasers with guest appearences by Moaning Myrtle, Hermione Granger and the Beatles. Begun preHBP.


**The Color of Despair**

_(a friendship story)_

**_Disclaimer_: **The title comes from an amazing line from an amazing song from an amazing musical from an amazing book. Characters, places, sports, and ideas from the books that begin with the words "Harry Potter and the" belong to the other name on the cover of those books. The songs sung by Luna belong to John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr and George Harrison. The styles Luna exihibits are mine in the idea-sense, and I wish that first shirt of hers was mine in the material-sense.

**_Warning_**: I began this before reading HBP, but include elements of it later on in the story, although it would technically then be AU. Ginny is an odd case as her character is more like GoF than OoTP. So she's kind of AU -- and sort of OOC, but not really . . . I bet you're all confused now, and are just going to skip over whatever else I put in here. Anyway, I did TRY to explain myself.

Onto the fic, my loves! It's a long 'un! Long . . . ish.

* * *

"Luna?" Ginny Weasley asked, wrinkling her nose at her Potions homework. "Do you ever feel like you're stuck in a rut? You know, going nowhere?" 

Luna Lovegood stared a few seconds at her. Ginny took in Luna's attire – live newt earrings, her wand tucked behind her ear per normal, her hair in millions of braids, and a bright green shirt under her school robes which clashed horribly with her Ravenclaw tie and had the words "that's peculiar" in sparkling letters dancing across it – and shook her head. "Never mind."

"Sometimes," Luna answered, looking back at her homework and beginning to write again with her mauve quill. "But not for very long."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Ginny had never been great friends with Luna until fifth year. She still caught herself treating Luna as she treated Hermione. However, Luna was not like any friend she had ever had. Not like different was bad, but it was . . . different.

"You should do something with your hair," Luna advised. Before Ginny could whimper, "My _hair_?" Luna continued. "You always wear it the same way. You've probably worn it like that since you were seven."

"Michael said he liked my hair."

"And you trust _Michael Corner_ on fashion over _me_?" Luna asked. Ginny was about to say, "Yes, actually, I do," but Luna sang (loudly, she always sang loudly) "_Picture yourself on a boat on a river_ "

"Luna!" Ginny hissed. "We are in the _library_!" After Luna had stopped, a thought popped into Ginny's mind. "What were you singing, anyway?"

"A song by the Beatles."

"There's a singing group named after insects?" That Luna liked such an odd, obscure band was no surprise to Ginny. Luna liked being different, reveled in it . . . as for Ginny, she found herself rather enjoying anonymity after what happened first year – well, as anonymous as a Weasley who sometimes hung around with Harry Potter can get. Ginny's new friendship with Luna had certainly gotten her noticed, perhaps even more than the one with Harry.

"I was thinking you could go black," Luna was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, her mind still on insects, songs, and drawing attention to yourself.

"Your hair," Luna said flatly, obviously displeased that Ginny had been not listening to a word that she had said.

Ginny, in scandalized tones, said, "You think I should dye my hair _black_? Have you gone completely loony?" Ginny remembered how she was speaking to, suddenly, and realized what she had said. "Oh, Luna, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Luna replied in a soft voice, but not her distant, dreamy voice. Ginny felt a pang in her heart. _What an lousy friend I am_, she thought.

"No, it's not okay," Ginny said, emphatically, and a fourth year looked up at her from the table to their left. Ginny did not care; she could tell she had hurt Luna. What was so crazy about dying her hair? Many girls at Hogwarts dyed their hair. Lavender Brown had turned herself into a redhead, and Sadie Nott was now a brunette.

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. Luna was writing and blinking more often than she was prone to, and Ginny was mulling over if she actually would dye her hair black. Practically everyone in the school would notice her, but did she really mind? Luna didn't care what people said about her, and she seemed happier than Ginny did. Why not? Mum would not like it at all (Mum always said, "Be true to yourself, Ginevra Molly.") but Ginny could always undye it with her own wand if she didn't like it. . .

"All right. I will."

"Really?" Luna asked, excitedly. "You'll really do it?"

"I'll really do it. Do you know the spell?"

"What do you mean, spell? I was talking about _dye_ing your hair."

_Wait a minute_, thought Ginny. _Didn't Daddy once say . . ._ "You mean, with muggle dye?"

"Of course, with muggle dye. What were you thinking?" Ginny considered telling Luna, 'No! There is no way I am letting some muggle coloring liquid even come this close my hair!' But what was the difference? Ginny knew there was a spell for it, and she could always ask Lavender if she would mind making Ginny's hair back to its normal color, in case it turned purple or something.

"What about dying it brown?" Black was so . . . drastic.

"Sorry, but no can do. Black dye is the only kind I have." Luna took out an issue of _The_ _Quibbler_ and began to skim the front-page article. (_How to Prevent Crumple-Horned Snorkacks from Going Extinct_)

Ginny sat back in her chair, biting her nails. Should she dye or should she not? How could she trust some muggle product to work? How could she doubt her friend? "Fine, then. What do you think about doing it on Saturday afternoon?"

"Before the Quidditch match, you mean?"

"Yes," said Ginny. Hermione had promised to explain a few concepts from Muggle Studies she hadn't been comprehending in the morning, but otherwise she had nothing else to do. That was the only day they didn't have practice, and practice was taking up so much of her time lately. She liked Chasing, but she longed with all her heart to be Seeker again. That was what she really loved to do, although she wouldn't dream of telling Harry that. (She distinctly remembered thinking it might be best to tell him the opposite. He swallowed the lie whole – she was glad of the "lying lessons" Fred and George had given her.)

"It's a deal," said Luna, twirling her quill so vigorously that it flew out of her hand and poked an unsuspecting Madam Pince in the eye.

* * *

Saturday afternoon came quicker than it often did for Ginny, and in no time, they were in the girl's bathroom on the second floor and Luna was pulling on strange gloves and reading the back of a box that read "Nice 'N Easy." Ginny was, of course, having lots of ugly last-second doubts, but she shut her mouth and convinced herself that it was too late anyway. Luna was singing merrily about submarines as she scrubbed Ginny's head – which was a strange feeling since she had been washing her own hair since she was six. "Good! All finished! Now don't touch it until it's ready for you to wash it out and then it'll all be over and through with!" 

_It'll all be over and through with, ha. _Ginny reached a hesitant hand up but Luna smacked it heartily with a laugh. "No, no, no! Mustn't fuss and mustn't muss!" _Ginevra Weasley, you are _so_ pathetic. Dying you hair doesn't make you into someone else. You really need to get a grip._ "Now," Luna continued, "I know you haven't done it for a while, but how about curling it?"

Her head itched. Ginny folded her hands and concentrated on Luna's suggestion. "No, I think this is enough. Besides, my hair doesn't really keep curls in very well –"

"I know," said Luna, staring at the U-Bend and sounding strangely listless. "You tried it for the Yule Ball." Ginny could tell that this would not lead to anywhere pleasant, so she jumped up from where she was sitting against a sink. Just as she was going to ask how long until they washed it out again, Moaning Myrtle came out of her toilet, sobbing half-heartedly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Luuuuuuna." She stretched out her name in a kind of hiccupping gasp as she settled herself in front of them.

"Good afternoon, Myrtle," Luna replied, looking so not listless.

"You never come to see me," Myrtle said with an absurd kind of pout. Ginny almost laughed, but held it in. "You used to come by all the time . . ." _That was because she had no friends, _Ginny thought.

"Yes, I did," Luna agreed without any explanation of why she had stopped. Myrtle seemed to be content with that, and turned towards Ginny with a strange look on her face. Ginny was horribly worried, all of a sudden, that she might say something about first year. She felt herself caving in and losing herself, and she could hear Riddle's voice echoing in her head . . .

"Who are you?" Myrtle asked. Ginny stared at her, her head still swimming with rooster crows, not quite hearing what she said. "Are you new?"

"No, this is Ginevra Weasley," Luna explained, looking at her watch expectantly.

"Oh," Myrtle replied, the look on her face not changing. "Your hair is wet." Ginny's mind was running in circles with this unexpected and glorious anonymity. Moaning Myrtle couldn't even recognize her with her new hair as the possessed girl. She had taken keen interest in Ginny after first year, and she hadn't wandered into her bathroom since then for fear of any reminders (not that they hadn't come anyway.) "Can't she talk?" Myrtle said to Luna, apparently dismissing Ginny as some half-wit.

"Of course she can talk," Luna responded quickly, and then, not taking her eyes off her watch, informed Ginny, "You can wash your hair in about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes! Luna, the match starts in a half-hour! I'll _never_ be able to make it!" Luna shrugged and Myrtle sighed.

"I suppose you are referring to a Quidditch match. I was never one for Quidditch; that horrid Olive Hornby went to every match. I don't know why you're so upset, nothing happens there anyway," Myrtle said gloomily, staring at herself in a mirror.

"You don't understand. I have to _play_," Ginny said desperately, wondering why she cared about Moaning Myrtle anyway and what was so bloody fascinating about Luna's watch.

"Don't worry about it. You're always worrying too much," Luna insisted, finally putting her arm down and pulling her sleeve over her watch. "I brought a book for you to read while you wait."

Ginny was just about to insist that she didn't need a book, knowing the kinds of books Luna enjoyed reading that would use a character's name once a chapter and spin her head in circles. But then Luna pulled _Seeker Secrets_ out of her book bag and gave it to her without another word.

_Seeker Secrets_ was the best-selling book at Flourish and Blotts, the first ever that was not a Hogwarts schoolbook or written by Gilderoy Lockhart. It was 1,037 pages of wisdom from the first muggle-born witch or wizard to be first string Seeker at a World Cup, Aderyn Bligh of the Falmouth Falcons. Ginny had wanted this book for ages, ever since it came out. But had she said anything, anything about it at all to Luna, who could care less about Quidditch? She tried to remember as she opened the book reverently, but any of those thoughts were wiped clear away more effectively than any _evanesco. _On the first page of the book, in a neat, red script it read, "To Ginny: The snitch is always able to be caught. No matter how fast it is flying, you _can_ fly faster. Best of luck, A. Bligh."

Ginny looked up at Luna, speechless, but she had pulled out a book of her own (_The Mystical Kettle of Knackledirk_) and was perusing it emphatically. "Luna, I . . . Merlin, how did you . . ."

"Daddy once got Ms. Bligh out of a very dangerous pickle, you know. She is so nice to us, and really willing to do any little favor she can to repay him." Luna looked up from the book with the faintest twinkle in her large eyes, though her voice did not let it show. "I heard it was a very good book about Quidditch, and you like Quidditch, so I figured you might be willing to give it a try."

"Thank you," Ginny said, skimming her hands across the shimmering cover. For a fraction of a second, Luna's eyes connected with hers and there was a hint of something in them that told Ginny that she knows exactly what had just occurred, for all her dreaminess. After Ginny was completely immersed in the first chapter, Luna was pulling it from her hands.

"Come on now, Ginevra Weasley, or you're going to be late," Luna said with a bemused smile, slipping _Seeker Secrets_ back into her bag. "You can have it back after the match." They quickly washed her hair out and managed to get Luna's striped gray, neon pink and mauve shirt entirely soaked. Before Ginny had a chance to sprint for the pitch, Luna took the wand from out of her hair (the left side of it was pulled into a bun while the rest was down) and murmured a drying spell at Ginny's head, then a quick spell she didn't quite catch.

"Ack! Luna, what did you just do?" Ginny cried, clutching her head with both hands and hoping to Merlin that Luna hadn't just removed all of her freckles. Mum would be shocked about the black hair, but no freckles would slay her.

"Improved it a little, is all," Luna replied, spinning her around to face the mirror. "Just look." And Ginny looked. Her hair was side-parted and she had fringe that just brushed against her temple. On top of that, the darkness of her hair had toned down her freckles a little. "Don't look too long!" Luna shouted gleefully, pushing her out of the door before Ginny even had time to recognize herself.

She ran as fast as she could to get to the pitch, thankful that she had brought her Quidditch gear along to the bathroom and doing her best to strap it on without tripping herself. Ginny heard the bells ringing and groaned. Harry was going to murder her for being late, and she was going to be _so_ _late_; she wasn't even halfway across the lawn yet.

By the time she had reached the pitch, she was panting and felt dizzy. Ginny grabbed her broom from the cupboard and stumbled in, praying that Harry would be feeling a little merciful. It was only against Hufflepuff, which had been in shambles ever since Cedric . . . ever since third year. They were all ready in the air, which was to be expected, and she heard Lee's current replacement (they hadn't been able to find a permanent one yet) speaking in a dullish voice. She hoped that meant that nothing had really happened, but in any case, no one had scored yet. With a quick jump on her broom, Ginny was in the air flying towards her teammates. She could finally make out what the commentator was saying. ". . . I see that it is Ginevra Weasley, coming in just the knick of time . . ." Ginny twisted around in shock to make sure that it was really Luna sitting next to a slightly-worried McGonagall with the megaphone in her hands and her face completely expressionless.

Katie Bell was the first to see that she had arrived, and exclaimed, "Thank Merlin you're here! We thought we might have to –" But Harry, impatient to hear her reasons for tardiness, cut her off.

"And just what fabulous excuse do . . ." Harry let the question remain unfinished as he stared at her. "Gin?" His stare was very disconcerting. Ginny readjusted her arm guard and avoided his gaze.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she asked testily, not wanting Ron to have enough time to fly over to them and see her. "Let's go."

"Now that all the players are here, I suppose it's time for the match to start. Isn't it, Professor?" Luna said, but plowed ahead without waiting for McGonagall's reply. "It's a pretty nice day for Quidditch, and both times seem ready. Madam Hooch, I think you may begin now." The spectator stands erupted in riotous laughter as Madam Hooch, flustered, blew the beginning whistle.

* * *

It was really a very lovely Quidditch match, Ginny thought drowsily as she flew down to the pitch. The rest of the team was shouting and laughing in a circle around Harry, who still held the Snitch in his hands. Demelza noticed her first and gave out a shout. "Oy! Gin's finally come down." 

They all turned to her and she tried to repress the yearning to leap on her broom and escape from their gaze. "Brilliant playing, everyone," she said, attempting to be casual about maneuvering her broom so at least something stood between them and herself. Ron was pointing at her head and moving his mouth soundlessly. Ritchie and Jimmy were giving her hesitant smiles. Katie was watching Harry look at her with a strange look on her face, but finally she said:

"Nice fringe, Weasley."

"Thanks, Bell," Ginny replied, bursting with relief. A bit of the awkwardness was gone now, she slung her arm around Katie's shoulder and began to walk off the pitch and towards the showers. Demelza followed them, giggling – though from the match or what happened afterwards, Ginny didn't know or care.

"So?" asked Katie, grinning, as they took off their muddy gear. "Did you _see_ his face? I'd say it was a success, wouldn't you, Robbie?"

Demelza looked delighted to be called this with such affection, and replied laughingly, "A complete and utter success, I dare say. I think he might've even caught the snitch a bit sooner if he hadn't been watching Gin's hair as it flew through the wind."

Ginny shook her head, hoping her hair would cover up her red ears. "You know that isn't why I did it at all, you conniving matchmakers. And furthermore, Dean would not be pleased to hear about your many plans to hook Harry and me up."

"Aw, give it a rest, Gin," Demelza said, with a sigh that bespoke long-suffering but was interrupted by a short giggle. "You two aren't even really dating anyway, so you can't use him as a shield yet."

"_Yet_," Ginny repeated with a smile, picturing the funny little picture he had drawn for her when she had been feeling down. "Well, Dean's all I've got at present, since you two don't accept _I'm over him_ as a legitimate reason to piss off."

"No, sir!" cried Katie, her hand to her heart and her face concentrating on some far-off idea. "We shall never give up hope!"

"Speaking of never giving up hope, Luna as commentator sure makes the match a bit more exciting," Ginny said with a chuckle, wondering what had possessed her to take the job and knowing that the story would be a good one.

"Wait," said Demelza, her giggle-less face seeming old and serious. "What does Luna commentating have to do with never giving up hope?"

"Oh, Robbie," Katie sighed. "You young, poor, innocent soul. What Miss Weasley has just demonstrated for us is a desperate change of subject, which only serves to reinforce the fact that she is not, in fact, _over him_ and that we, in fact, have no reason to give up hope."

"Honestly, you two." Ginny shut her locker fiercely, hoping it seemed as if she were very bothered. "If I called Harry a colossally apish prick, you would say that proved that I was not, in fact, _over him_."

"Too right we would. No one who is over a bloke calls him a colossally apish prick. It takes too much brain power to think up to say about someone you only marginally cared about," Katie explained, swinging her broom over her shoulder. "Come, Robbie, let us leave our Potter-occupied friend to her dreams." Demelza followed a whistling Katie out the door, giving Ginny one last giggle over her shoulder.

Ginny slumped against the wall as soon as they were out of sight. _Think of Dean,_ she thought, watching her face flush in the mirror. _Remember him? Fit bloke who draws you pictures and makes you laugh? What does it matter if Harry reacted oddly to your new hair?_ She stepped closer, attempting to memorise this face as she had the other one. _It doesn't matter, Ginevra Molly, because you've all ready given up on him. Remember?_

* * *

"Er, hey, Luna," Ginny said, stepping sideways from the light in hopes that Luna had not yet caught sight of her face. "Brilliant commentating." 

Luna didn't say anything, but smiled a bit, the lamp next to the portrait of The Fat Lady casting strange shadows across the face. "You did rather well yourself," she said, but did not continue. Ginny felt jumpy in the dark and silence, so she quickly began making her excuses.

"I'm sorry I took so long in the showers, you see, I – er, that is –"

"That's fine, I didn't mind the wait. I've waited longer for Snorkacks. They're awfully slow, you know."

"Yeah?" Ginny replied softly, wondering if she'd ever felt less like laughing. She hadn't even thought that Luna would be waiting for her, though of course it was obvious that she would. Even less people went around with Luna on match days, her and her crazy hats. "Look – really, I am sorry."

Luna tilted her head, then pulled out a thick book from the rucksack slung over her shoulder. "I figured you'd want it."

"Yes, thanks." Ginny's hands traced the title carefully, biting her lip hard and feeling as though she might like to disappear, or at least, undo the last hour. _What a lousy friend I am. I really, really, don't deserve someone like her._ But before she had the chance to try to put her feelings into words, Luna had disappeared down the hallway, humming and twisting in little circles, her long hair swishing about her waist.

The Fat Lady looked at Ginny sleepily and said, "Best give it up, Miss Vane. I've told you, I'm only allowed to open for Gryffindors."

"It's me," she hissed, tasting salt. She felt awfully tired all of a sudden. "Ginny Weasley. The password's _floo powder_."

"Right you are, dear," The Fat Lady yawned as she swung open.

* * *

She sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, curtains pulled, and thought about how much she didn't want to go down for breakfast. She heard the other girls getting ready, groaning and laughing about the day ahead. A voice said, "What about Ginny? She's usually up by now isn't she?" 

"Ah, leave her to have a lie-in," another answered warmly. "She played brilliantly last night, she deserves a bit of rest." So they left. She pulled her pillow towards her and placed it in her lap, telling herself that no one would miss her, not really. The softness of her pillow was so inviting, and she was feeling so tired . . .

"Ginny! Ginny!" _Hermione doesn't ever screech in my dreams_, Ginny thought mournfully, pulling her knees closer to her chest. "Ginny, wake up!"

"Wha –" Ginny started to say, blinking from the light. Hermione's hair looked especially frizzy with the morning light shining through it, and her face – her face –

"Something dreadful's happened to Luna," she said, wheezing.

Ginny and Hermione were running down the second floor hallway three minutes later as she straightened her skirt hurriedly. "So no one knows what the note said?" Ginny gasped, ignoring the pain in her legs.

"No, she left right after she read it."

"Huh," Ginny remarked, not having enough air to say anything else. "You sure she's here, then?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, hands on her knees and hair covering her face. "She won't talk to me, and Moaning Myrtle won't let me in."

"Luna!" Ginny yelled. "Myrtle, please let me in! Please!"

Ginny heard a murmur, and a moment later, Moaning Myrtle floated through the door, looking uncharacteristically unemotional. "She says you can come in."

Luna was sitting on the tile floor, her head resting on the sink behind her. Her hair dangled in front of her face, hiding most of it. Ginny, for once, knew what not to say. She sat down next to her and waited. At length, Luna's head dropped forward. "He was in his office, planning our next Snorkack-hunting trip. His secretary –" Luna's body twitched. "His secretary didn't even hear him fall –" Ginny silently, gently entwined their hands. "The Healer who wrote says he won't stop asking for me, but –" Her hand squeezed Ginny's so hard that her fingertips began turning blue. "But he's asking for Mum as well." Luna's face pressed into Ginny's shoulder, her nose digging into her skin uncomfortably. However, the tears tripping down Ginny's cheeks had nothing to do with the slight pain coming from that area of her body, and everything to do with the pain coming from the right side of her chest.

It seemed an immeasurable eternity that she sat there, holding Luna close and watching Moaning Myrtle bob along the U-bend mournfully. And when Luna lifted her head and found she could not explain herself, Ginny just held her closer. Later, she would think it was rather funny how far the thoughts that had so occupied her the night before were removed from her.

Luna leaned against her heavily as they walked, and Ginny was glad of the pressure – an unmistakable reminder of the requirements of a friend, one that Ginny hoped to Merlin that she would never be able to forget. As they climbed the last staircase up to the Ravenclaw dormitories, Luna reached out and carefully stroked Ginny's black hair. "I'd say it was a success, wouldn't you?"

"Of the best sort," Ginny replied, suddenly not caring a Merlin's toenail what Ron, Harry, or anyone else thought about her new hair. They would have to get used to a Ginevra Weasley who wasn't afraid of standing out in a crowd.

Very very softly, Luna began to sing. It surprised Ginny so much that she couldn't escape from hearing and knowing she would never forget every word that was coming out of her best friend's mouth.

"_I get by with a little help from my friends . . . _"

* * *

The first person to explain the title correctly gets . . . um, mad props and anything else they might want, excluding money, as I haven't any. 

Confused? Angry? Laughing your head off? (not too likely) Sobbing into your hankie? (even less likely) Dancing around the room with your pet lobster? (all in all, quite likely) Drop me a line, won't you?

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